


A One Person Rebellion

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Divergence, Crushing, Dreaming, Friendship, Introspection, M/M, Pining, dumb conversations by dumb boys, misunderstandings and mistakes, reference to wet dreams??, uhhhhhhh it won't be unrequited guys obvs, unrequited?????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-03-18 02:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13672326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: Ronan wakes up in a panic, unable to move, in a panic, horrified, in a panic, because he has dreamed Adam Parrish right into his fucking bed.(This isn't what you think it is (probably ( ;) )))





	1. Chapter 1

For the majority of his (so far) short life, Ronan Lynch liked to think that he knew himself pretty fucking well, that he was honest with himself about who he was and what he wanted. On whole, it had been reasonably simple. He was a son, a brother, a friend, a one person rebellion. He wanted to be loved, to love, to fucking have fun. Mostly in that order. 

 

He’s well aware that other people class him a little differently, see him in a different coloured light. His father, for one, he always told Ronan that Ronan was a knife, a sharp word in the hot air, a beam of light, an idea. That he knew Ronan wanted life, wanted adventure, wanted more. 

 

His mother had always told Ronan that he was a soft smile in the moonlight, was a flower fresh in bloom, was a boy on a mission, was a melody who wrote his own lyrics. That he wanted family, that he wanted sunshine, that he wanted forehead kisses. 

 

Gansey, his best friend, used to say that Ronan was radiantly ridiculous, was the best thing since Glendower, was the perfect adventure companion, was going to get them into trouble in a minute. Gansey never used to try and tell Ronan what he wanted, because he knew Ronan well enough to know that Ronan knew what he wanted. 

 

Of course, that was a before thing. All of that. What his father thought, what his mother thought, what Gansey thought. Whatever the rest of the fucking world thought, although he didn’t give a rat’s arse about that. What he thought. 

 

He doesn’t know that much about himself anymore. 

He’s stripping it back into basics. It’s a difficult thing. Hard to be truthful with yourself when you know you won’t like most of the truths you’ll uncover. 

 

He still knew himself for a few days after his father had died. Had been murdered. Had had his head smashed unceremoniously in the driveway for Ronan to stumble upon. He knew himself enough to know that he was entirely and completely devastated, heartbroken, shattered. Knew himself enough to know that he wasn’t the knife his father thought he was, because a knife wouldn’t grow dull so quickly. 

 

He knew himself until his mother stopped. After his mother stopped it seemed a little ridiculous to even have a ‘self’. The only truth there was left about him at this point was that he was broken and shitty, and quickly hurting what was left of his family. Which really pointed out to him that he was no longer a son, and he certainly wasn’t acting like a brother, or a friend, which only left him the one person rebellion section, so he threw himself entirely into that. 

 

He would have rebelled until he dropped dead, but Gansey, seeing Ronan no longer knew what he wanted, decided to know his wants for him, and took him in, shut him up in Monmouth with hot chocolate and firm words, and the simple statement that Ronan wasn’t as broken as Ronan thought he was. 

 

This is all well and nice to say, but it was always a difficult thing to believe, especially when Ronan still couldn’t reconcile who he was to who he is, or who he will be. He doesn’t know. 

 

Honestly though. None of that shit even really mattered. None of it. He was recalibrating himself. He was slowly going through who he was with himself and figuring it out. Most of what he was figuring out was that he was an asshole, but he supposed that was no longer news. 

 

Most of what he was figuring out was that he was so fucking scared of being alone. 

 

Most of what he was figuring out was that he was a jealous, needy fucker sometimes. 

 

Most of what he was figuring out was that being cruel and snide to Adam Parrish for encroaching on Ronan’s Gansey territory was simply much easier than admitting to himself that Adam Parrish was a ‘thing’ about Ronan Lynch. That Adam Parrish was a ‘thing’ about Ronan Lynch that Ronan Lynch could never actually have. Like having his family back, or, sleeping through the night, or - 

 

He had Adam filed under ‘things not to think about’ in his head. Stashed it alongside family secrets, and family tragedies, and dreamed tragedies. 

  
  


-

  
  


This is how Ronan figured it out. It wasn’t a blinding moment of epiphany, or even a long drawn out soul search in his journey to rediscover himself again. 

 

It was more sitting in class behind Adam Parrish, listening to the drone of Whelk conjugate verbs that the rest of the class should fucking know by now. 

He had no need to listen to what Whelk was saying, he could conjugate in his sleep, so he filled his mind with the curve of Adam’s shoulders instead. With the uneven lengths of his hair. With the neat stitches in his clothes where he’d mended the second hand uniform. 

 

It was sitting in class behind Adam Parrish for weeks on end, slowly realising that he already knew where every careful mend in Adam’s shirt was, knew the pattern of freckles on the back of Adam’s neck by heart, could trace out Adam’s shoulders in the empty air. 

 

It was sitting in class behind Adam Parrish growing slowly more and more frustrated for reasons he had yet to comprehend until he watched Adam tuck a too long piece of hair behind his ear and thought to himself how much he wanted to be the one tucking the hair. 

 

It was a nonsensical thought, and he didn’t pay very much attention to it, not until a lunch one day, when he sat across from Adam instead, and Gansey was the one who leaned in and tucked the same piece of hair behind the same ear because Adam’s hands were full of book and pen and his hair was in his eyes and Ronan’s stomach coiled like a snake. 

It was an, ‘oh’, and then it was a gentle reminder that, like most things Ronan wanted, this was not something he could have. 

  
  


-

  
  


Like most things Ronan could not have, Adam pissed him off to no fucking end. It wasn’t fair that he could be so tantalisingly close (Like the Barns, like the lifeless yet still alive body of his mother, like the claws in his dreams), but he could still not have him. So he balked. He snapped. He fought. He pissed Adam off, he pissed Gansey off, he pissed Noah off. It felt like it would be that much easier if Adam hated him, because if Adam hated him, then maybe Ronan’s feelings towards him would be burned out of him with Adam’s loathing. 

 

It did not fucking work. 

Whether because Ronan was not trying hard enough, or because Adam just didn’t care enough, Ronan did not know. Adam certainly didn’t seem to enjoy his company, but unlike Ronan, he didn’t complain when they were in the same room, didn’t seem to notice half the time. Gansey spent a lot of this time period telling Ronan off, apologising to Adam. Adam spent a lot of this time period ignoring Ronan, brushing aside Gansey’s apologies. Noah spent a lot of this time period rolling his eyes. 

 

Anyway. The result of all of this, somehow, after a few months of biting remarks and ignored bitten remarks, ended up in some sort of a grudging friendship. Or maybe, the acquiescence that Adam wasn’t going to be scared off by Ronan’s antics, and Ronan wasn’t going to suddenly become polite, so they may as well both just deal with the other. This was still a new thing, on the Sunday morning that Ronan woke up in a panic. A new thing in which Ronan found he could maybe have a proper conversation with Adam without spending the entire time hating himself for wanting him. Could put that want into the background. A new thing in which sometimes, Gansey would be in a meeting, and Ronan and Adam would eat lunch together, and yeah, they’d fight, but it would be friendly fighting. A new thing in which, when Adam sometimes caught Ronan staring, it wasn’t as weird, because they were kind of friends. A new thing which would be absolutely completely trashed if Adam found out that he was one of Ronan’s secrets. Ronan had spent enough time around people like Adam, people raised rough and hard like Adam, to know that who Ronan was, was just not acceptable. 

  
  


-

  
  


This is part of the reason Ronan wakes up in a panic on Sunday morning. Because there is no way he is going to be able to explain this away. No fucking way he can make any sense of this to anyone, to Gansey, to Adam, to Noah, to himself, without having to spill out a good handful of his more painful secrets. 

 

Ronan wakes up in a panic, unable to move, in a panic, horrified, in a panic, because he has dreamed Adam Parrish right into his fucking bed. 

 

He’s still asleep. Dream Adam, that is, not Ronan. He knows when he’s asleep and when he’s awake, the feel of terror is different. Dream Adam is still asleep, which is fortunate, because it gives Ronan a small amount of time to panic in peace, and also to unfreeze. 

 

He can’t remember exactly what he was dreaming. Something about being in class with Adam. Something about leaning over and brushing his knuckles against Adam’s nape, up into his tousled curls, about Adam leaning back into his hand. Something about lying in lush grass, side by side with Adam, about Adam running his fingers down Ronan’s arm, down his side, down his throat. About clasping his fingers round Adam’s wrists, bringing his fingers to his mouth, kissing each knuckle, then biting each finger tip. Waking up with his hand still holding tight to Adam, like it is now. 

 

In the pale morning light in his room, it looks like a wax tableau set out in front of him. Like a re-make of a murder investigation. A ‘who-dunnit’, in which the answer would always be that Ronan was entirely guilty. 

 

As soon as he regains control of his limbs, he lets go of Adam, draws himself away and out of bed as if Adam’s body was burning him. Dream Adam’s body, he reminded himself, this was not Adam, this was not Adam, this was some unholy figment of Ronan’s twisted, fucked up, awful imagination. He doesn’t know what to do. Who would this Dream Adam be? There’s no way he could have dreamed Adam up perfectly, Adam was too many moving parts, too many hidden thoughts, too many of his own secrets for Ronan to suss out in one dream. 

 

Dream Adam was going to be disgustingly compliant, Ronan thought in horror, easy to touch like he had been in the dream itself. He wouldn’t be Adam. He would be more like a sex toy brought to life, and how fucking awful was that of Ronan. Not only was he turning Adam into nothing more than a pipe dream, he was turning Adam into nothing more than a sex dream. Adam did not deserve that. 

  
  


-

  
  


He hasn’t managed to come up with a single good idea (just a lot of self deprecation and panic) by the time Dream Adam suddenly stirs in Ronan’s sheets. Ronan is just standing a few feet away from the bed, doesn’t even know how to react when Dream Adam opens his eyes, blinks in confusion, then sits up and stares at Ronan. How is he supposed to address a dream? He wasn’t a purposefully created dream like his mother, would he even be capable in the real world? Would he be terrified? Would he be able to speak? Would-

 

“What the hell am I doing here?” Dream Adam asks, voice rough with sleep and confusion, as he throws the sheets off of his legs and stands up. 

 

“Uh,” Ronan says, doesn’t know how to explain to a dream that they were a dream made solid. “I woke up...and you were here?” 

 

“What?” Dream Adam says, rubs at his face, pushing away creased pillow lines and sleep, “I definitely went to sleep in my own bed.” 

 

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. He’d fucking dreamed Adam to think he was Adam hadn’t he. How despicable. 

 

“Uh,” Ronan says, doesn’t get much further than that because Dream Adam is suddenly checking his wrist watch and blanching. 

 

“Shit,” he says, “I have to be at work in 5 fucking minutes, shit, shit, why didn’t you wake me up Lynch?” 

 

“How was I supposed to know you had work?” Ronan snaps back, throws his hands up. This feels too real and therefore too unreal. “Anyway, you can’t fucking go, because then there’ll be two of you there, and how the fuck are we supposed to explain that?” 

 

Dream Adam looks at him strangely, then shakes his head and looks around Ronan’s room. He’s only wearing a singlet and a pair of boxer shorts. “Can I borrow some jeans?” he asks, “I can’t go to work like this. I’ll get them back to you on Monday.” 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan says, “fine. Honestly though-” he starts again, but Dream Adam is already ducking past him, grabbing a pair of holey jeans, and tugging them on, speaking again. 

 

“Are you drunk or something?” he asks, hopping on one foot as he tugs the pants fully up, “Or are you just still half asleep?” 

 

“No,” Ronan snaps, “fuck off Parri- fuck off. I’m just trying to explai- God.”

 

“To explain?” Dream Adam asks, does the button of the jeans up, cocks his head at Ronan.  

 

There’s no point, Ronan realises in a frustrated rush, in trying to explain to Dream Adam that he was a dream, because Dream Adam obviously thought he was real Adam, and therefore didn’t know about Ronan’s dreams, and therefore wouldn’t believe he was a dream without some irrevocable proof. Which meant, really, that Dream Adam needed to get to work, catch a glimpse of real Adam, and then have Ronan explain. He thinks, not for the first time, that he ought to tell Gansey about his dreams. Then he could wake Gansey up, and Gansey could convince Dream Adam. Dream and real Adam would listen to Gansey. But then Gansey would know, would know about how Adam was a ‘thing’, would know how twisted Ronan is to be dreaming copies of their friend, would know- 

 

“Nothing,” Ronan snaps, “I’ll give you a ride to Boyd’s.” 

 

“Nah,” Dream Adam says, “I’m good-” 

 

“Fuck that,” Ronan snaps, “you’re gonna be late otherwise. Let me fucking drive you, God damn.” 

 

Dream Adam continues to look at him strangely, then he nods, and shrugs. 

  
  


-

  
  


Thank God above that Gansey is still asleep when they go through the living area, that Noah is too. Dream Adam doesn’t say anything until he’s buckled into the BMW and Ronan’s starting the engine up. 

 

“So,” Dream Adam says, “uh, I’m sorry, I guess? For crashing your bed? I suppose I… sleep walked here? Fuck that’s a long way to sleep walk.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan grunts. Doesn’t really want to contribute to this conversation when he’s just going to have to tell the truth in about 5 minutes. Needs to keep these interactions as truthful as possible. Fuck. When Dream Adam realises he’s a dream, he’s going to realise why he was a dream, and then, both Dream and real Adam will fucking hate him. 

 

“I definitely fell asleep at mine, right?” Adam is asking, “I didn’t fall asleep at Monmouth while studying and just dream going home?” 

 

Ronan shrugs. 

 

“God,” Dream Adam says, “this is so weird. I didn’t even put pants on. Or shoes.” 

 

“Oh yeah,” Ronan says, “what are you gonna do about that? You can’t work without shoes.”

 

“I keep my coveralls and boots at the garage,” Dream Adam says with a shrug, “saves me from having to bike them there and back again every day.” 

 

“Ah,” Ronan says. Pulls into the Garage car park. He can’t see real Adam’s bike. 

 

“Ok,” Dream Adam says, immediately opens the car door and climbs out, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Sorry ‘bout this.” 

 

“Nah,” Ronan says again. Dream Adam slams the door shut, picks his way across the carpark, disappears into the garage. Ronan stays where he is . He doesn’t know how long it’ll take. Dream Adam is a little late, so real Adam will definitely be here, but Dream Adam might not see him immediately. But real Adam will be wearing the coverall and boots, so Dream Adam will immediately know something is up. He has to stay until Dream Adam comes back out at the very least. 

He waits a full 5 minutes. He’s starting to think he ought to go in and find out what’s happening. Maybe the Adams are fighting. Maybe he caused a paradox or some shit and they both disappeared. Maybe - Dream Adam is walking back towards the car, coveralls and boots and a bemused expression on. He walks round the car, leans down while Ronan rolls down his window. 

 

“What are you still doing here?” Dream Adam asks, “Was this a taxi service? Are you waiting to be paid?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, bewildered, “did you - uh - did you see Adam?” 

 

“What?” Dream Adam asks, “Seriously Lynch, are you drunk? Did I just let a drunkard drive me to work? Is that why you haven’t left?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, aggravated, “can I come in for a bit?” he asks, and Dream Adam raises his eyebrows. 

 

“Why?” he asks. 

 

“I want to see what it’s like in there,” Ronan says weakly, shrugs. He thinks for a long moment that Dream Adam is going to refuse, but then he shrugs as well and straightens back up. 

 

“Ok,” he says, “come on. I need to start work so I can’t give you a tour or whatever, but come on.” 

  
  


-

  
  


There is no other Adam in the garage. Just Dream Adam by his side, looking at him curiously. He follows Dream Adam around for a while, until he’s convinced that there is no other Adam somehow hiding under a car or whatever. Then he leaves, drives to the trailer park. He walks down the driveway, hesitates in front of the trailer. Knows Adam would kill him if he knew he was here. But - if Adam isn’t at work, then he has to be at home, surely. He knocks, and when no one answers, he knocks again, then circles round the trailer to the garage at the back. It’s locked, and no one answers his knocks there either, so he circles the trailer again and peers into the window he knows is Adam’s. There is no Adam. His bed is unmade, sheets crumpled, shoes by his bed, bag hanging on the door. Adam is not here. He puts Adam’s bike in his trunk, drives it to Boyd’s. Goes back inside the garage, finds Dream Adam. 

 

“What are you doing back here?” Dream Adam asks, pushing himself out from under a car, “Seriously, Lynch, is something up?” 

 

“I brought you your bike,” Ronan says flatly, staring at Dream Adam who just seems so fucking much like real Adam, in looks, in actions, in words. Ronan is a good dreamer, but he doesn’t think he’s that good. “Seeing as you probably don’t wanna walk home barefoot.” 

 

“Oh,” Dream?Adam says, looks a mixture of uncomfortable and pleased, “thank you. I appreciate it. Really though,” he continues, sighs, presses a grease stained hand to his own forehead, swipes hair out of his vision, “what’s going on? You’re acting weirder than usual today, and I mean, I know I just… fucking appeared in your bed? But - weirder.” 

 

Ronan stares at him hard. He can’t see a single fucking mistake. “You’re you, right?” he asks harshly, and Dream?Adam just stares at him. “You’re definitely Adam Parrish. You think I’m kind of an asshole? Your main goal in life is to get out of this fucking town?” 

 

“Uh,” Adam says, frowns, and takes a half step away from Ronan, “yeah?” he says, “I am? The hell, Lynch? Should I call Gansey?” 

 

“No,” Ronan spits, “God, fuck,” he bites out, presses the heels of his hands into his eyeballs, presses hard until Adam takes him by the wrists and tugs his hands down. He looks equal parts irritated and concerned. 

 

“I should call Gansey,” Adam says flatly, “you’re not ok. Are you sick?” he asks, releases one of Ronan’s wrists to press his hand flat to Ronan’s forehead, “You don’t feel hot.” 

 

“I’m fine,” Ronan rasps, then changes his mind, “actually,” he says, “I’m not. I - I feel really fucking weird. I should go home.” He should go to church and either pray for absolution or in immense gratitude. Or both. 

 

“I’ll take you,” Adam says, “if you’re this out of it, it’s probably not safe for you to drive.” 

 

“I’ll be fine,” Ronan says, pulls himself out of Adam’s grip, “you don’t drive stick, anyway.” 

 

“I could probably drive stick the five minutes back to Monmouth,” Adam says stiffly, “probably safer than you passing out at the wheel.” 

 

“I’m not going to pass out,” Ronan says, though he feels so giddy with relief that he really might, “I’m fine. I just need to - need to go. Bye.” 

 

“What?” Adam asks, throws his hands up in the air as Ronan walks off. “Don’t die, Lynch!” he calls. Ronan replies with his middle finger. 

  
  


-

  
  


Back in his car he presses his forehead to the steering wheel and breathes deeply. Dream Adam was real Adam was Dream Adam was Real Adam so what the fuck? So Ronan hadn’t dreamed up a whole new being, he’d just plucked the original out of reality and plonked him down into bed with him. So what did that mean? Did that mean that Dream Adam in the dream was real Adam doing real Adam things, or was real Adam only real Adam when they left the dream? It was all too confusing. Too complicated. Too unanswerable. He didn’t know his dreams could do that. Wasn’t sure he wanted his dreams to be able to do that. 

 

What he really wanted to know, was, if this really was the real Adam, had the real Adam been dreaming with Ronan. Had the real Adam also dreamed about touching Ronan. About being touched by Ronan. Did the real Adam dream about this? It didn’t seem probable or possible. 

 

He goes home. He needs to change and go straight back to church. 

  
  


-

  
  


In church, he prays fervently, ignores the sermon. Prays; ‘God, God, God, God, what the actual fuck, Jesus and Mary please tell me what I’ve done. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one chapter fic was always meant to have more chapters that I never gt around to writing, so now I'm writing them. Only like. Almost a year later. Whatevs. You know the drill - this shit aint edited.

One would think that having done this once, having experienced the amount of panic and guilt and shame about having dragged another human into your dream and then out of you dream back into the world, that you would then  _ not do it again _ . Ronan certainly planned to never do it again. He concentrated harder than usual on not letting his thoughts drift to Adam when he was going to sleep. He focused furiously on remaining conscious in his dreams so as not to subconsciously allow it to happen. 

 

So. It was excessively unfair that he was waking up now, his stomach warm with pleasure, to the sight of Adam’s tousled curls on his pillow. He couldn’t even remember the dream Adam must have sprung from, which is both disappointing and good, and also an indicator of how well he must have slept last night to have; a.not had any control over what he dreamed, and, b.not even remember the fucking dream. 

 

Firstly, He’s no more prepared than he was last time, as to what he was supposed to say to Adam. How he was supposed to explain this to him. At least this time if Adam decided he must have have sleep walked here, it was only from St Agnes instead of the trailer park. Still unbelievable really, but a little bit more possible. He isn’t sure if it’s more or less helpful than Adam knows about the dreaming now. It would be more helpful if Adam was a dream himself, because then at least DreamAdam would know what he was talking about, but. He doesn’t really know how telling Adam he dreamed him into his bed will go down in any other way than ‘bad’. 

 

Secondly, he actually doesn’t think he can even get out of bed right now to try and sort his brain out, or at least provide Adam with the less damning waking up alone in Ronan’s bed rather than waking up with a mostly naked Ronan in Ronan’s bed. He doesn’t think he can get out of bed because Adam is on top of his arm, neck on his shoulder, freckled arm heavy across Ronan’s chest. 

 

It’s a disaster. 

 

It continues being a disaster because even though his chest is freezing up with that stupid ass panic again, his stomach is still warm. 

 

And also because when he shifts just a little bit to test the waters on the getting out of bed thing, Adam’s eyes open and the waters are shitted. 

 

“Um,” Adam says. Closes his eyes. Opens his eyes again. “Um?” 

 

Ronan’s brain vomits out the first thing it thinks of. “Fuck man,” he says, “you obviously need a better bed at St Agnes.” 

 

“What?” Adam asks. He’s slowly pushing himself upright now, confusion slowly making its home on his face. 

 

“Seeing as you’re here,” Ronan tries weakly, tugs more blanket onto himself as they fall off of Adam, “and not in your bed.” 

 

“Why am I here?” Adam asks. 

 

Pretty sure it’s because I had a vaguely damp dream about you, is what Ronan does not say. 

 

“Fuck knows,” Ronan says, “I just opened my eyes and you were here.” That was, more or less, the truth. 

 

Adam blinks at him. 

 

“Do you guys even lock your front door?” he asks, “How the - I don’t understand.” 

 

“Well don’t look at me,” Ronan grits out, rolls over to present Adam with his back, “you’re the one who turned up in my bed.” 

 

“Ok, geez,” Adam snorts, “who pissed in your cheerios?” 

 

“No one” Ronan snaps back, “seeing as I haven’t even gotten out of bed to eat them yet.” 

 

“I’m so sorry to be holding you back from your pee cereal,” Adam says. The bed creaks and shifts as he climbs over Ronan to get out of the bed, “sorry for ruining your you time, I guess. I’m gonna go borrow some pants from Gansey.” 

 

The door creaks open, snaps shut again, and Chainsaw remarks her annoyance at Ronan’s idiocy with one long low note from somewhere near the curtains. 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan says, and gets out of bed as well. He isn’t sure what is the best thing to do here. If he ought to go out and try and… manage things, or if he ought to stay in his room and pretend like he’s not involved at all at all at all. “Fuck,” he repeats, because he is sure he wants to say that a few more times. 

 

There’s a knock on the door, and before he can reply with a ‘fuck off’, it opens. Adam again. 

 

“Are my shoes in here?” He asks, staring at Ronan’s junk strewn floor, “I can’t have walked here barefoot again.” 

 

“But you did,” Ronan grumbles, pretends like he’s fully invested in searching in his laundry basket for hell knows. “Your shoes aren’t in here.” 

 

“You didn’t even look,” Adam retorts, “your room’s  tip. They could be under the bed, or some shit.” 

 

“They’re not,” Ronan snaps, “get out.” 

 

Possibly he wasn’t doing very well on either ‘managing’ the situation, or in looking uninterested in it. He risks a glance up at the doorway because Adam hasn’t left yet, and Adam is looking back at him with an expression like he suspects maybe Ronan ate his shoes. 

“You’re so pissy in the morning,” Adam says finally, “have a look for my shoes in here, would you?” 

 

He slams the door as he leaves. Ronan feels like he ought to maybe look for the shoes, because, Adam asked him to, but. He knows the shoes aren’t here. If he was the one who brought Adam here, which, he totally was, he wouldn’t have brought Adam, and then separately from Adam, Adam’s shoes. Dumb. He had brought Adam just as he was, in too small shorts and a ratty t-shirt and long freckled warm limbs and beautiful curls and. It was a crime he had had to panic on seeing Adam in his bed instead of getting to; a. Appreciate just how hot Adam was, and b. Think about how pretty Adam was in his bed (or, c. Touch Adam’s sleeping face because maybe Ronan was kind of a creep and really wanted to because Adam looks so fucking soft when he’s asleep and). 

 

He doesn’t look for the shoes. He kicks things around on the floor, partially to express frustration, partially so Adam would hear it and think that he was maybe looking for his shoes. Then he drags his jeans on and leaves his room. 

 

-

 

Adam and Gansey are at Gansey’s dresser, Gansey holding up various pastel shirts for approval while Adam pulled on slightly to short slacks and shook his head at all of the shirts. 

 

“No one wants to wear that crap, man,” Ronan says roughly as he walks in, and Gansey shoots him a disappointed look over his shoulder. 

 

“A lot of people wear things like this,” he says, then, “how about the blue one, Adam?” 

 

“A lot of retired people in nursing homes, yeah,” Ronan says, stomps his way over to the dresser and stares at Adam’s ankles sticking out of the slacks, “you look stupid, Parrish.” 

 

“Did you find my shoes, Lynch?” Adam shoots back, accepting the blue shirt and swapping his holy t-shirt out for it. 

 

“Told you they weren’t there,” Ronan says, shaking his head, “maybe you flew here and didn’t need shoes. I’m going out.” 

 

“Going out where?” Gansey asks, folding his shirts again to put them away, “It’s not even eight. Why are you awake?” 

 

“Out,” Ronan reiterates harshly, “I’m awake because some dumb as shit weirdo woke me up and then wanted his shoes.” 

 

“When did Adam even arrive?” Gansey asks, brows furrowed. He shunts the drawer closed, and turns halfway so he can see Adam and Ronan at once, “Adam says he thinks he must have sleep walked, but, surely you’d have woken up if he’d gotten into bed with you?” 

 

“Well I didn’t wake up until this morning,” Ronan says, turns away to stalk towards the door, “so who the fuck knows.” 

 

“Ronan,” Gansey says, and something soft and warm hits the small of Ronan’s back. “Put a shirt on if you’re going out, at least.” 

 

The shirt now on the floor at Ronan’s feet is Adam’s sleep shirt. Ronan looks from it to Gansey, to Adam who looks like he was the one who actually threw it. It feels too much like they both know what Ronan accidentally did and this was them telling him. He knows he’s reading into it. He picks the shirt up, pull the finger in their general direction, and leaves. 

 

He puts the shirt on as he thuds down the stairs. It’s a little loose, but not as loose on him as it was on Adam. Very breezy too. There were way too many holes. It shouldn’t even really be called a shirt. Maybe lace. He’s heading for his BMW, but only when he actually reaches for the door handle does he realise he hadn’t grabbed his keys. There’s no way in hell he’s going back up to get them, so he takes a sharp left and just leaves the lot on foot. 

 

He only gets a block away by the time he feels like he’s being followed, so he pauses by the little shuttered up dairy and waits for Noah to catch up. Really, Noah shouldn’t have to  _ catch up _ , he was a fucking ghost, but he did like to be irritating. 

 

“You forgot your shoes,” Noah points out. 

 

Ronan’s feet do kind of hurt. “I’m not planning on walking across town,” Ronan grunts, “unlike some people.” 

 

Noah gives him a look. The look that says, ‘don’t be a dumbass bitch’. Ronan wishes to return the look because he doesn’t really feel like having it right now. 

 

“Don’t be a dumbass bitch,” Noah suggests, “Adam and Gansey might be clueless sometimes but I have to feel like all of your emotions at any given time and so I have all too many clues.” 

 

“Wow,” Ronan drawls, starts walking again, “please do be more transparent.” 

 

“Was that a ghost joke?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, stubs his toe on an uneven part of the sidewalk and pretends it does not hurt like all fuck. 

 

“You’re bleeding,” Noah points out helpfully, falling into step beside him, “and like I said about the feeling your emotions? You can stop pretending.” 

 

“Motherfucking shitting crocodile holy ghost on a speedboat,” Ronan hisses, stopping pretending that his toe felt like it was under attack by the fbi (foot bullying institute). 

 

“There, there,” Noah offers, “let it all out.” 

 

His toe really is bleeding. Like. A chunk of it had been ripped off the top or some shit. Not his toenail, thankfully, just the meaty bit. Fucking gross. Noah pats him on the back. Ronan hobbles over to the side of the footpath to the crackly grass and cigarette butts on the side and sits down heavily. A long spiky piece of grass jabs his back through one of the many holes in Adam’s t-shirt. Noah sits down next to him, immediately starts tearing the barely there grass out. 

 

“You need to get out of my head, man,” Ronan grunts, tugging his foot up so he could inspect the damage better, “I don’t want you seeing that shit.” 

 

“Which shit?” Noah asks, “The like, dark as all hell, creepy, scary, terrifying shit? Or the dreams where you like… cum when Adam touches your shoulders?” 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan says, swipes at Noah, “shut the hell up. Both. All.” 

 

“I can’t help it,” Noah says, only sounding a little regretful about it, “you think I wanna be swamped in all your guys emotions all the time? You guys have weird as fuck thoughts.” 

 

“So focus on like, Blue’s addiction to yogurt, or some shit,” Ronan says, tugging at the hem of Adam’s shirt to drag it’s already stretched fabric to his foot on his thigh. His toe very much needed a plaster, but the shirt would do for now. 

 

“Adam’s gonna be pissed,” Noah says. 

 

“I’ll get him a new one,” Ronan grunts, “he can’t even complain because I’ll have ruined this one so it’s not like I’d be doing it out of the good of my heart or some fucking shit.” 

 

“So it was a whole plan, huh?” Noah asks, “Dream him into your bed, storm out of the house, get his shirt, amputate your foot. All so you can get him new pajamas?” 

 

“Piss off,” Ronan says, “no. Don’t be a shit head.” 

 

“So there is no plan?” Noah presses. 

 

“I thought you could read my mind?” Ronan sneers back grumpily, then sighs when Noah elbows him, and amends his non-answer. “I didn’t fucking mean to bring him over or whatever. I don’t even know how I’m doing it, man.” 

 

“But you know why?” 

 

“Of course I fucking know why,” Ronan snorts, “knowing why doesn’t help shit. I just need to stop it. It’s creepy of me. And like. Just weird. He’ll catch on eventually if I keep doing it.” 

 

“Its kinda cool, though,” Noah says, nudges Ronan’s side again. “Like, imagine how much you could save in like… air fares. All you gotta do is travel somewhere, and then dream Adam over there with you. Best deal. Probably the only way you could persuade Adam to travel with you too, until he gets like a fancy ass job and has money to do it.” 

 

“Why’d I wanna travel with him?” Ronan asks, elbows Noah back, and then fields Noah’s returning arm flail. 

 

“Uh, I dunno,” Noah says, voice mocking, “because you wanna be with him forever and see everything with him and make little Parrish-Lynch babies or birds or whatever?” 

 

Ronan forgets to block, and Noah’s next arm flail knocks him backwards a little bit. 

 

“This is only obvious to you, right?” Ronan asks, “Because you’re in my head?” 

 

“Sure,” Noah says, offers him his hand to help him back upright. “You should go home so you can put a plaster on your toe.” 

 

They go back to Monmouth. 

 

Adam is still there. He and Gansey are sitting by mini Henrietta, looking at some boring old book, Adam dressed entirely in Gansey’s clothes (which is surprisingly hot and Ronan hates his brain for telling him this), but with a pair of Ronan’s shoes on his feet. 

 

“Those are my shoes,” Ronan says unhelpfully. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, not looking up from the book, “Gansey’s feet are too small for me to borrow his shoes.” 

 

“Lynch!” Gansey says, “What happened to your foot?” 

 

“I’m not as light footed as a sleepwalking Parrish is what,” Ronan says, stomps past them and the cardboard town, “not all of us can walk like fucking elves or some shit.” 

 

He possibly (definitely) leaves blood on the floorboards as he makes his way to the bathroom/laundry/kitchen/hellsite. He can hear Noah talking to Gansey and Adam, but purposefully doesn’t listen because what he can hear while he’s not listening to the conversation, is Adam standing up and following him. He doesn’t close the bathroom door, so when Adam reaches it, he just walks right in. 

 

Ronan sits down on the closed toilet, which is in arms reach of the cupboard with the first aid kit. 

 

“I was talking to Gansey,” Adam says, Ronan grunts as if to say ‘I fucking know that’, and Adam rolls his eyes and continues, “we’re wondering if my sleepwalking is to do with Cabeswater. Like it’s trying to tell me something.” 

 

“Like what?” Ronan says, picking a bit of dirt off of the raw part of his toe, “You need a better mattress?” 

 

“We don’t know,” Adam says, ignoring Ronan’s less than helpful suggestion. “Obviously it’s something to do with you. Maybe it’s something to do with the whole dreaming thing. Like maybe it needs me to get you to dream something.” 

 

“Did you tell him about the time this happened before?” Ronan asks. 

 

Gansey’s flannel is on the towel rack next to him, so he grabs it, wets it, and then puts it on his foot to wipe the blood off. He’d put it in the wash. 

 

Adam shrugs, “No,” he says, “I - I mean, obviously I will. It’s just that I’m not sure it fits, seeing as it can’t have been Cabeswater back then because I didn’t have a connection to it. So.” 

 

“So,” Ronan says, “even though this has happened before not in connection to Cabeswater you think that maybe this time it is related to Cabeswater. Aren’t you meant to be like, logical or something?” 

 

Adam frowns at him. “What do you think is going on then?” He asks, “I mean, seriously. Aren’t you curious at all? I just turned up in your fucking bed, Lynch. I have no memory of walking over, my feet are fine, you didn’t wake up when I arrived. So. What?” 

 

Ronan thinks he should have probably just kept his mouth shut and gone with the Cabeswater option. He drops the bloody flannel on the floor and reaches for the cupboard to get some plasters. 

 

“Of course I’m curious,” he grumbles, “but I also don’t care.” 

 

“Those statements cross each other out,” Adam says, “anyway. I might not have been connected to Cabeswater the first time, but you’ve always had your dreams. So maybe it’s not so much about me. Maybe it’s your dreams doing something wack.” 

 

This was altogether too close too quickly. 

 

“Don’t be dumb,” Ronan says, sticks the plaster completely to itself and not his toe, discards it on the floor and peels a new one. “I think I’d know if it was my dreams.” 

 

Adam huffs, glances at his wrist. “Whatever, man. I’ve got work. Get the blood out of my shirt.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says. 

 

Adam leaves. 

 

“Hey,” Gansey calls from the other room, “will you clean up your blood at some point?” 

 

-

 

Ronan does not bother with getting the blood out of Adam’s shirt. It added character, and if Adam hated it, Ronan would replace it and keep it. So who the fuck cared. He does clean up his blood on the floors though, because he doesn’t want to have to tell the Gansey seniors that their son died when he slipped on Ronan’s toe blood and brained himself on one of his dumb ass books. 

 

“Weird about the Adam thing,” Gansey comments from his bed where he’s doing a crossword on ancient welsh history that Malory had sent him. In a physical letter. Cut out of a newspaper. “It makes me think of like. What happened in DC. But he swears it wasn’t that. I don’t know.” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan says from the floor. Chainsaw mimics him from her position on his stomach. 

 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Gansey continues, pauses a moment to scrawl a word in, “I mean. When he… lost time in DC, he looked awful. He didn’t look any worse for wear this morning. Honestly he looked like he’d just had a really good sleep.” 

 

“Rude of him, really,” Ronan says. 

 

“And as is evidenced in your screwed up foot, the pavements around here very much aren’t smooth at all. You’d think his feet would be a bit more scratched up, but they’re as smooth as normal.” 

 

“You have a foot kink, Gansey?” 

 

“Anyway,” Gansey says, sternly ignoring Ronan, “what do you think?” 

 

“That you have a foot kink,” Ronan says. Gansey sighs. 

 

-

 

Ronan goes to bed. He very carefully informs himself that he will not dream about Adam. He firmly informs himself. He threatens himself. He doesn’t actually go to sleep. He lies there on top of his covers and scowls at his dark ceiling until his bedroom door creaks around about three AM and for a wild moment he thinks that Adam actually really is sleep walking to his bed in the middle of the night and Ronan isn’t actually a creepazoid. But then his door doesn’t open, and Noah materialises near the foot of his bed. 

 

“Sorry,” Noah says, “I didn’t mean to disappoint.” 

 

“Should’ve tried harder than,” Ronan grunts. 

 

“What’s it like to sleep with Adam, then?” Noah asks, “Is he all poky and boney and uncomfortable? Or is he a cuddler?” 

 

“The hell?” Ronan grunts, “I’ve never actually slept with him, man. I’ve woken up to him in my bed and then panicked and got the fuck out of bed.” 

 

“True,” Noah says, “dude. You’re wasting some good opportunities there.” 

 

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Ronan says. 

 

-

 

He goes to the op-shop just down the block from church the next morning when he gets out of the service. Matthew tags along after him, and Declan sends disapproving looks after the both of them. 

“Why are we buying a shirt for Adam?” Matthew asks cheerfully once they’re inside the over full shop. 

 

“Firstly,” Ronan grunts, “I am buying a shirt for Adam. Secondly, do you want this jumper with a dog surfing on a piece of pizza?” 

 

-

 

“Lynch,” Adam calls from inside his flat when Ronan hammers on his front door, “can you try and not knock the whole place down?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says when Adam opens the door, grumpy expression on. He still steps back to let Ronan in though. “You have work in like ten, yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says. He has a pencil behind his ear and a pen in his hand. “I’m just finishing my homework, so, don’t be annoying.” 

 

“Whatevs,” Ronan says, chucks the paper bag he’d been carrying under his arm in the general direction of Adam’s bed. “I couldn’t get all that blood out of your gross ass shirt.” 

 

“What?” Adam asks. He’s already sitting back down with his books, but he looks away from the papers to look at the bag on his bed, “What’s that, then?” 

 

“Went to the op-shop,” Ronan grunts, “got you another one. Don’t get excited, it’s just as shitty.” 

 

“Lynch,” Adam says, already looking to be gearing up for a big old whinge. 

 

“Anyway,” Ronan says loudly, “I’m apparently supposed to not be annoying right now, so I’m gonna fuck off. See you tomorrow, dumbass.” 

 

“Lynch,” Adam says again. 

 

Ronan shuts the door firmly behind himself. 

 

“That was smooth,” Matthew remarks from the bottom of the stairwell. 

 

“Piss off,” Ronan suggests. 

 

-

 

The biggest problem right now was that Ronan had truly been trying to not think about Adam when he went to bed on Sunday night, but, Adam was a very loud noise in his head about 98% of the time and sometimes telling himself not to think about 98% of his brain was impossible. 

 

Actually no. The biggest problem right now was that Adam was in his bed again (this wasn’t the biggest problem bit) in the shirt Ronan had bought him. A bright pink thing with a duckling on the front. Again. The biggest problem right now was that Adam was in his bed wearing a shirt (that Ronan had BOUGHT HIM) with a cute duckling on the front. 

 

“Shit,” Ronan says, considers his view a little bit more, and adds on to that. “Shit and fuck,” he says. 

 

He resists the urge to touch Adam’s face. Checks his watch instead. They have school in just over an hour. Adam was going to have to wake up, get back to St Agnes and get dressed first. Gansey was going to want to talk about this. Ronan knows he’d talked to Blue about it the previous night. If he knew it had happened again he would probably insist they all go to the witch house and one of them would touch Ronan and then all shit would hit the fan. Every cat would be out of its respective bag. 

 

“Parrish,” he hisses, pokes Adam’s shoulder hard, and then regrets it when Adam winces hard. “Shit,” Ronan says, “Adam. Man. C’mon.” 

 

Adam grumbles, shifts a little, then freezes, eyes moving under his closed lids. 

 

“Ronan?” he asks. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan confirms. 

 

“Am I seriously in your bed again?” Adam asks. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “I’ll drive you back to yours. Get up.” 

 

“God,” Adam says. Does not open his eyes or get up. .

 

“No,” Ronan says, “just me.” 

 

“Not funny,” Adam says. Keeps his eyes shut. 

 

“Keeping your eyes shut won’t magically drop you back into your bed,” Ronan says. 

 

“I dunno,” Adam says, “that’s how I get here, after all.” 

 

“What,” Ronan snorts, “you get into bed, close your eyes, and wish to hop into my bed? Is that what you’re doing now in reverse?” 

 

Adam opens his eyes specifically to roll them at Ronan, and then sits up. 

 

“Nice shirt,” Ronan says. 

 

Adam thanks him by pulling the finger, and then kicking at Ronan’s legs. 

 

“Come on, then,” he says, “you said you’d drive me home.” 

 

“Fucking impatient as all shit,” Ronan grumbles, swings his legs out of bed, “fine.” 

 

-

 

“So,” Adam says when Ronan pulls into the parking lot at St Agnes, “I’ve been thinking. I don’t think it’s Cabeswater trying to tell me anything.” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan says, parks across three separate parks because he’s skilled liked that. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Adam replies, hops out of the car. 

 

Ronan drives back to Monmouth. Goes inside. Gets a shower. Has a realisation while he’s shampooing his scalp. 

 

“Oh shit,” he says, gets shampoo in his mouth. 

 

“What?” Gansey asks from the sink where he’s brushing his teeth, “Did you get shampoo in your eyes again?” 

 

“No,” Ronan grunted, spitting suds out, “I just remembered how dumb your face is.” 

 

“Rude,” Gansey says, flushes the toilet in punishment. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Adam is at school when Ronan gets there. Adam is in fact, in the desk beside Ronan in class. This is not at all a surprise because Adam is always in this particular class at that particular desk, but, Ronan can’t help but think it might be easier if Adam was not. 

 

It wasn’t fair that Adam had said that he knew - that he didn’t think - that it was Cabeswater doing this, so calmly and casually because it had taken Ronan an entire half hour to realise that while his voice had been so throwaway his face had been doing a thing. A thing Ronan was pretty familiar with now. The thing where it says; ‘I see right through you’. Usually Adam only handed Ronan this look when Ronan was being pissy to Gansey, or when Ronan was pretending not to care about shit, or even sometimes when he brought Adam lunch or something. 

 

So. It was pretty obvious to Ronan right now that Adam  _ knew _ that it wasn’t Cabeswater, and the look he wore told Ronan that he  _ knew _ that it was all Ronan. Whether or not that meant that he knew why it was Ronan, or what that meant, Ronan didn’t know. What he did know was that not knowing was making him exceedingly uncomfortable sitting next to an Adam who was ignoring his anxious leg jiggling in favour of writing an essay. Continues to ignore this until Todd, right behind Ronan, kicks the back of Ronan’s chair and hisses for him to stop because he's shaking the whole room. Ronan replies with a scowl over his shoulder, and when he turns back to his desk, leg still jumping, Adam is looking at him. 

 

“I’ve got study next,” Adam says. 

 

“So?” Ronan snaps. 

 

“So you’ve got, what, economics? Skip it. We should talk.” 

 

Ronan has skipped about half of all of his economics classes, but he is now very fully considering going to his next one. Adam has refocused on his essay, apparently confident that Ronan will in fact skip class just to talk to him. Ronan wants to be contrary, but, it was one thing to balk at something you didn’t like, and another to balk at something that about a quarter of your entire personality ran circles about. He doesn’t reply because Adam obviously doesn’t think he needs a reply. He does skips economics. He does follow Adam out of the classroom and to the library and down through the shelves to the very back of the library. Adam sits down against the wall under a large dirty window, but Ronan stays standing, leaning against the Shakespeare section. 

 

“I’m not walking to Monmouth,” Adam says, starting this whole stupid conversation off, “I can’t be. For one thing, I would definitely have fucked up my feet at the very least if I slept walked barefoot to yours.  Secondly, I feel way too well rested when I wake up. Thirdly, if I were walking there it  _ would _ be a message from Cabeswater and it just isn’t. It doesn’t feel right. Fourthly, I uh -” 

 

Ronan sighs, shifts his weight to his other foot while he waits for Adam to sort out his words - his high cheekbones slowing fading into pink. 

 

“I guess I didn’t realise at first,” Adam mumbles, “because uh - waking up somewhere completely different to where I fell asleep was very distracting but.” 

 

Ronan considers the possibility of leaning against the shelf hard enough to tip it over and cause a book avalanche so he could escape. 

 

“Like,” Adam mumbles, “I’m pretty sure I was dreaming about you… uh every night before. And I  _ know _ I don’t have - I know this started before I was - uh - connected to Cabeswater. I think what happened, was maybe - because Cabeswater has always been there. I think I somehow intercepted your dreams? I don’t know. It’s this really stupid theory, I know, but I honestly think that that’s what’s going on. It’s just not… logical to not think that. I dream about you, and then I - uh - wake up in your bed.” 

 

“You dream about me,” Ronan repeats. 

 

Adam scowls at him. 

 

“What the fuck do you dream about me?” Ronan asks, watches in not at all veiled interest as Adam’s cheeks go from pink to red. 

 

“Nothing in particular,” Adam grumbles, keeps his gaze firmly on Ronan’s, “you’re just. There.” 

 

“So, what?” Ronan asks, “You think that… that because I have weird dream shit, if anyone dreams about me, my dream shit drags them into my bed with me? Man. I’d have woken up with a million people in my bed.” 

 

“Big headed,” Adam says. 

 

“No point in pretending I don’t know I’m hot,” Ronan says. 

 

Adam isn’t looking at him anymore. “Well,” he says, “you - I thought you’d figured it out. You looked like you knew what was goin’ on. And. Don’t you?” 

 

Ronan had been confused since the moment Adam hadn’t said that he knew Ronan was dreaming about Adam, and now he was still confused, but also a little bit (maybe a lot) guilty feeling. Because Adam could say this, had said this, even though it obviously embarrassed him and wasn’t even the answer. Ronan could have cleared this up as soon as he’d told everyone he had weird dream shit. He could have pulled Adam aside and been like, hey you remember that time you sleep walked to my room and then you thought I was all drunk and weird the next morning? I accidentally dream pulled you into my room. Like dream accio or some shit. Haha funny right? NBD.

 

He hadn’t though. 

 

“It’s not you,” Ronan says. 

 

“Come on,” Adam sighs, “I’m sure it’s not just me. That would require like… me to have actually some sort of … power or whatever that’s separate from Cabeswater. I’m just saying it’s probably my  _ fault _ and that’s where we should be looking. Not at Cabeswater or. Whatever.” 

 

“No,” Ronan groans, “your dreaming is just a coincidence. Because. It is all to do with my dreaming. I’m like.  _ I’m _ dreaming about  _ you _ and like. Fucking tugging you out of your place and into mine. I don’t quite get how it works. It’s like. I think it’s just the… magic being sensible and not cloning people, but doing the next best thing and bringing out the real you, no matter that you’re real somewhere else. I don’t know. I can’t explain it to you properly. But just. It’s not on you. I just can’t control my dreaming sometimes.” 

 

Adam is looking at him as if Ronan had just sprouted a second head. .

 

“You knew all this time?” he asks. 

 

“Hey,” Ronan grunts, “ _ you _ thought it was you!!” 

 

“I only really thought it was me from this morning!” Adam snaps back, “And I told you as soon as I’d had enough time to think about it!” 

 

“Well I had to think about it too,” Ronan defends himself. 

 

“For this long?” Adam says, “Lynch. It’s been almost a full year, damn it!” 

 

“I don’t owe you any explanations,” Ronan says, which is probably a dumb thing to say. Adam sure looks like he thinks it’s a dumb thing to say. 

 

“You don’t - My body is being physically moved!” Adam says, voice a lot louder suddenly, “I’m waking up in  _ bed with you _ . I think you owe me a lot more than an explanation!” 

 

Ronan reconsiders the possibility of shoving the shelves. 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says, “you want an apology? Is that what you want?” 

 

Adam is now looking at him as if Ronan had sprouted another head to go with his first two heads. He doesn’t look like he likes any of these heads. 

 

“Yes,” he says, “A fucking apology would be nice.” 

 

“Well I’m so fucking sorry!” Ronan says (yells), “How shitty it must be for you to wake up in an actually nice bed for once in your damn life. You think I did any of this shit on purpose? I try my fucking best not to think about you at all. If you hate waking up in bed next to me you best believe I hate it a million more times than you.” 

 

Adam has somehow simultaneously shrunk further back against the wall and puffed himself up with anger. He looks like a cat ready to pounce but unsure if the payout is worth it.  Ronan regrets yelling. He turns and stomps his way back down the aisles between shelves, bumps into the librarian coming to tell them off for yelling, and escapes the library. 

 

He could go to economics now. He could go to the gym and chuck some balls at some walls. He could go back to the library and apologise for being a dick ass, and also for being loud in a library. He goes back to Monmouth because Monmouth has a six pack (with three bottles left) of some really crappy beer under his bed. 

 

-

 

Also under his bed? 

 

Noah. 

 

“What the fuck,” Ronan says. 

 

“I was checking out the dust bunny population,” Noah says, not at all abashed. 

 

“You are terrible at lying,” Ronan grunts, grabs the beers and pulls himself out from under the bed to sit on top of it. Noah seamlessly appears beside him on the bed, tugging at a loose thread in Ronan’s coverlet. 

 

“I’m not,” Noah says absentmindedly, “you’re just bad at listening to truths.” 

 

“You’re bad at speaking,” Ronan grunts, knocking the beer lid off on the head bard of his bed. The wood there was all chipped and scratched from the numerous times he had already done this. “What do you want?” 

 

“To chill,” Noah says, “I’d say I want the beer, but that beer is disgusting, so. Nah. Just to chill.” 

 

“I’m not chilling,” Ronan says, I’m drinking all the beer I have here, and then I’m going to get into the shower until all the hot water runs out.” 

 

“Sounds like a waste of time and water,” Noah offers. 

 

“Didn’t ask,” Ronan replies, taking an over large swig of his beer, and then choking a little as the fizz foams in his throat and attempts to come out his nose. 

 

“The funny thing about drinking,” Noah says, pulls the thread out with one quick tug, revealing a whole array of new loose threads for him to pull, “is that when it wears off, whatever it was you were trying to forget is still there, but it’s still there with a headache.” 

 

“Didn’t ask,” Ronan repeats, takes another swig, this time managing to swallow it smoothly. 

 

-

 

It’s quite dim in his room when he wakes up. He hadn’t actually made it to the shower. He’d finished his three bottles of beer, and though he wasn’t exactly drunk, he wasn’t exactly sober, and the only thing he wanted to do was lie in his bed and smell his pillow to see if he could tell just by smell that Adam’s head had been on it earlier that morning. He doesn’t know when he fell asleep, so neither does he know what time it is that he wakes up. He wakes up because his door opens and Adam speaks from the doorway. 

 

“Gansey is going to want to know.” 

 

Ronan doesn’t answer. 

 

“He’s going to think it’s part of the quest. He’ll want to know the answer. He’ll keep looking for an answer if we don’t tell him we figured it out.” 

 

“We didn’t figure it out,” Ronan says into his pillow which doesn’t even smell like Adam a little bit “I just always knew. You didn’t figure shit out.” 

 

Adam makes an annoyed noise in the doorway, and then Ronan’s door shuts. Ronan attempts to go back to sleep, but this is forestalled when his mattress dips as sits down by his hip, having actually closed the door with himself inside the room. 

 

“You piss me the fuck off,” Adam says informatively. 

 

“So leave,” Ronan suggests, and Adam makes the annoyed noise again. 

 

“You’re lucky the librarian likes me, or I’d be pissed at you about pissing her off too.” 

 

Ronan shrugs. 

 

“You don’t think it’s even a little bit weird that I just coincidentally dream about you on the nights you dream about me?” Adam asks then, which isn’t what Ronan had been expecting him to ask even if maybe he ought  have been. 

 

Ronan shrugs again. 

 

“You know what Gansey says about coincidences,” Adam says. 

 

Ronan doesn’t bother shrugging. Adam sighs. 

 

“So,” Adam tries, “I was wrong the first time. About it being all me. Obviously. But I think you’re wrong too. I don’t think it’s just you. I think it’s us dreaming about each other at the same time that does it. Whatever it is. Obviously it’s to do with your dream shit, but it’s not just you. You know?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Ronan replies unhelpfully. 

 

“It doesn’t make much sense,” Adam agrees, “but it makes a lot more sense than trying to say that the fact that I’m dreaming about you at the same time has nothing to do with it. Look. Just. Humour me. What were you dreaming about me last night?” 

 

Ronan would. Prefer. Not to. 

 

“About the duck shirt,” he mumbles into the pillow. Adam exhales behind him. 

 

“You were wearing it,” Adam says, which isn’t something he ought to know, “yeah? In your dream?” 

 

Ronan turns, displacing Adam momentarily, and peers suspiciously up at him. 

 

“Sure,” he says, “say I was wearing it. So what?” 

 

“So,” Adam says, “say you were wearing my sleep shorts from the other night too.” 

 

“Why would you say that?” Ronan asks slowly. 

 

“Because,” Adam says, “my current working theory is that we were having the...same dreams.” 

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Ronan says. Mostly because this is something he does not think would be a good thing to have happened. 

 

Adam rolls his eyes. 

 

“You didn’t have the same dream as me,” Ronan continues, “it’s fucking weird about the clothes or whatever. But. We didn’t have the same dream.” 

 

Adam rolls his eyes the other way. 

 

“I was naked,” he says conversationally, “speaking of what we were wearing in the dream. Y’know. ‘Cos you were in my clothes. So I was naked.” 

 

Ronan very carefully does not look at Adam. Adam keeps talking. His voice is still all casual on the outside but Ronan can hear the whole lot of ‘not casual’ underneath it now. 

 

“Does that sound familiar at all? Because, yeah, I guess we could both have had a dream in which you were wearing the same things and not have had the same thing. It would have been a stretch but it could have happened. But both things? Same dream. So. What was I wearing in your dream last night?” 

 

Ronan would still prefer not to answer even though his answer has already been said. He feels like maybe this is all an elaborate joke and Noah had just told everyone all the contents of his dreams and if SAYS that Adam was naked in his dream last night than the walls would collapse and he’d be in a courtroom and the judge (God? His father? Gansey?) would bang a gavel and pronounce him guilty and Adam would tell him he was disgusting and then he would go to disgusting friend jail. 

 

Adam shoves him shoulder. Not hard. 

 

“Nothing,” Ronan grunts. Shoves himself upright and shuffles far enough down the bed that he can swing his legs over the edge of it without knocking Adam off. “Happy?” He asks as he stands up. 

 

“Actually, yeah,” Adam says, “I kinda am, you dick.” 

 

Standing up feels a lot less vulnerable than lying in bed, especially since the walls had not fallen over and he was not on his way to disgusting friend jail. He pauses to consider the rest of the dream. 

 

“So,” he says, “what was the rest of the dream about, then?” 

 

“Seriously?” Adam snorts, “You still need proof?” 

 

“I just wanna know if you can even say it,” Ronan says, “so I know what fucking ground we’re on right now.” 

 

He can feel Adam looking at him, even though Ronan is very staunchly staring straight ahead at the wall and not at Adam. 

 

“Well,” Adam says, “stop me if it’s not the same as yours. Pretty sure we were here. On your bed. I had my hand down your shorts - well - my shorts on you. I was also on you-” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan bit out, “ok, ok, God. You can stop.” 

 

Adam stops. Ronan turns around stiffly so he can look at him. 

 

“Sorry, or whatever,” Ronan says, and now Adam looks confused. 

 

“Why?” 

 

Ronan scowls, because for a academic genius, Adam could be ridiculously people stupid sometimes. “Because,” he snaps, “my fucking dreams leaked into your head or some shit? I’m sorry? I guess I’ll try and figure out why they’re doing that and stop it.” 

 

“Lynch,” Adam says, snorts, “Ronan, you complete - shit. You’re such a stupid shit,” he adds, which Ronan knows to be true but doesn’t appreciate having to hear right now.  “Seriously? You hear we both had the same - the same freaking sex dream about each other and think that you somehow… magic poisoned my mind or something?” 

 

“Well what the fuck else would I think?” Ronan snaps. 

 

“That you didn’t, maybe?” Adam says, “Like most fucking people?” 

 

“Sure,” Ronan snorts, then takes a half moment to properly align everything Adam had actually said to him with everything Ronan knew, and then another half moment to kick himself mentally. Adam allows him this moment. “Wait,” Ronan says, “what do you mean?” 

 

Adam looks like maybe he wants to Ronan as well, less mentally, more physically. 

 

“I mean,” he says, “you’re not the only one has damn… wet dreams, you dumbass.” He stops here, frowning like he thinks that’s not quite right, and then continues, “I mean,” he tries again, “I don’t end up in your bed everytime I have a dream like that about you, so it’s not - it’s not just connected to your dream shit. Ok? It’s me, by myself, having these dreams. Thoughts.” 

 

“God, Parrish,” Ronan says, because his mouth likes to run off batteries and not brain, “that sounds real gay.” 

 

Adam scowls at him, crosses his arms. “And?” he asks, “I was aware of how gay it sounded when I said it.” 

 

“Right,” Ronan says, running frantically after his mouth for the hand break, “you were also aware that it makes it sound like you have a hard on for me, then?” 

 

Adam just looks at him, then ducks down, picks up a random piece of clothing, and throws it at Ronan. Ronan side steps it; he still gets hit lightly by one of the pants legs as it flies past him though. 

 

“If you’re gonna keep being a dick about it,” Adam says tightly, “I’ll go and you can figure out if you wanna be a human about this or not.” 

 

Ronan finally manages to make it to his mouth before more words spill out of it. He shakes his head. Swallows down as much stupidity as he can, and tries again. 

 

“Can we backtrack a little,” he says, “and have you confirm that what you mean by all of this is that you’re interested in me outside of dreams?” 

 

Adam looks like he might throw something else. “Yes,” he says stiffly, “that is what I mean.” 

 

“Right,” Ronan says, clears his throat, “I don’t want to have sex with you.” 

 

Adam gapes at him, then closes his mouth and his eyes and rubs his face while Ronan tries to stretch his words into the right position. 

 

“I mean,” he says hurriedly, “I mean that I. Shit. I wanna obviously but I don’t fucking just want to. I don’t just fucking want to have sex with you and have that be all. And. I don’t even want to have sex with you right now. Or like. For a while. Because. Yeah.” 

 

Adam drops his hands, lifts his eyebrows. 

 

“I wasn’t actually about to suggest we just drop everything and fuck,” he says, “you need to work on what words come out of your mouth. I don’t want to just run into whatever the hell this is either.” 

 

Part of Ronan is suggesting he acts really offended that Adam doesn’t wanna bend him over right here and now. The vaguely sensible parts of him are thwacking the first parts of him over the head and telling them to fuck off. 

 

“Ok,” he says, “so what is this whatever the hell this is then?” 

 

“That was a terrible sentence,” Adam sighs, “are you gonna keep hovering in the doorway like you’re gonna bolt at any moment or are you gonna come back and sit down?” 

 

Ronan opts to come back and sit down.

 

“You weren’t mean to find out,” he says. 

 

Adam snorts. “Well,” he says, “the whole magic teleportation thing was a little bit too on the nose, I guess. Though. It did take me until today to figure it out.” 

 

“I was supposed to sit on my feelings,” Ronan says to his lap, “just keep them right the fuck here, and then, one day I’d die.” 

 

“For someone who hates the internet and technology,” Adam drawls, “You sure are a walking internet post.” 

 

“You think if we date, I’ll stop accidentally kidnapping you?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Adam says, “I don’t think I completely understand that whole thing yet. I’m not focusing on that right now anyway.” 

 

“I thought that was the focus right now,” Ronan says, “wasn’t it?” 

 

“It was,” Adam says, “until we got on the same page about  both of us being stupid idiots who didn’t realise we both liked each other. That’s forefront right now.” 

 

“Huh.” 

 

“So,” Adam continues, “you wanna, then?” 

 

“I wanna what?” 

 

“Date. Dick head.” 

 

“Oh, right. Yeah,” Ronan clears his throat, frowns at his lap. “Is that what you want?” 

 

“If it wasn’t I wouldn’t be asking,” Adam says, leans closer to Ronan so he can elbow him, “you’re being scarily under confident about this whole thing.” 

 

“Well fucking sorry,” Ronan says, tears his gaze away from his knees to prove he was more courage than cowardice by looking Adam straight in the face, “it’s just a bit fucking weird for me to be sitting here with all my fucking secrets right here.” 

 

“Even when I’m telling you that your secrets are my secrets too?” Adam asks. 

 

“It’s… taking me a bit to get me head around it properly,” Ronan grumbles, “give me a bit. I”m still - still a bit tipsy.” 

 

“Oh,” Adam says, kicks at one of the beer bottles by the bed, “yeah. Right. Ok.” 

 

“Not that tipsy,” Ronan adds quickly, “like. I know what the hell I’m doing and saying. I just. This is already weird. So it’s just adding some extra - - extra difficulty.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says after a few moments of quiet. “Uh. Go get a shower, try to freshen up a bit? Gansey’ll be home soon.” 

 

“What’s the time?” Ronan asks, because, he had been vaguely aware that Gansey probably wasn’t here, but now it had been mentioned, he had no idea where Gansey was. 

 

“Almost three,” Adam says calmly, as if him saying this doesn’t mean that Adam fucking Parrish had skipped some class to come talk to Ronan. 

 

“The shit,” Ronan says. 

 

“Go shower,” Adam reiterates, “you smell like… yuk.” 

 

“Eloquent,” Ronan comments. 

 

-

 

Gansey is home by the time Ronan re-emerges from his room after showering and changing and putting deodorant on because everytime he thinks about what he’s supposed to say to Adam next he starts sweating.

 

“You weren’t in class today,” Gansey is saying reproachfully to Adam, “I was worried.” He catches sight of Ronan coming in and adds on, “And you! Weren’t in any of our classes! And weren’t answering your phone. What’s going on, guys?” 

 

“You weren’t worried about me?” Ronan asks, and Gansey frowns at him. 

 

“I’m always worried about you,” he says firmly, “come on. It has to be something important or Adam wouldn’t have missed class.” 

 

Adam looks at Ronan, shrugs. Ronan would like to shake his head back at Adam, but instead he shrugs as well. 

 

“Hey dick,” Ronan says, “guess what we figured the fuck out today.” 

 

Gansey does not look impressed with Ronan’s general language. He waves his hand as if to say; ‘if you must’. 

 

“We’re not like, 100% on exactly how, but Adam isn’t sleepwalking, I’m accidentally transporting him into my bed because I’m horny for him and vice versa and my dreams apparently thought it was a good idea. So. We’re dating now.” 

 

“We are?” Adam asks, “I hadn’t realised we’d gotten that far in the conversation.” 

 

“We better be!” Ronan says, “I just said we were out loud!” 

 

“Fine,” Adam snorts, “we’re dating, yeah.” 

 

Gansey cuts in here. 

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says, hands held up in front of him like a deranged traffic conductor, “explain.” 

 

“Sometimes I dream about Adam’s dick,” Ronan begins, and Gansey interrupts. 

 

“Adam, you explain,” he says firmly. 

 

“Sometimes I dream about Ronan’s dick while he’s dreaming about mine,” Adam begins, and Gansey groans loudly but doesn’t interrupt this time. “And something something magic I guess, his dream took notice. We’re not sure how yet seeing as the first time it happened was before I was connected to Cabeswater so like. I didn’t have any… magic or shit like that. Anyway. We end up having the exact same dream so the dream puts us in the same place and we figured out that that was what was happening this morning and I skipped class because Ronan freaked out about it during study period because he refused to be chill about anything.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “but you didn’t turn up here for a few hours.” 

 

“I had a test,” Adam says, “I wanted to follow up, obviously, but I also wasn’t about to flunk class just because you were in a funk. I figured you probably needed some time to think anyway.” 

 

“Hold up!” Gansey says, “This happened when before? How long ago?” 

 

“Last year,” Ronan says, “right after Adam cut his hair all short at the back and he looked like he came out of a thirst magazine.” 

 

“God,” Gansey says. 

 

“Huh,” Adam says, “that’s news to me.” 

“Well,” Ronan says, “it’s not like we’ve discussed this all in detail yet. A lot of shit is gonna be new to you.” 

 

“So,” Gansey says, “you guys are dating now. You’re a thing. A couple.” 

 

“So long as Ronan isn’t a shithead about it,” Adam says. 

 

“So long as Adam isn’t a nerd about it,” Ronan contributes, “is this gonna be a problem, Gansey?” 

 

“Only if you’re a shithead and Adam’s a nerd about it all,” Gansey says faintly, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say here. Congratulations sounds a bit… off.” 

 

“Congratulate us when we make it a month without me murdering him,” Adam offers. 

 

“You’re so cruel, Parrish,” Ronan says. 

 

“I’m going to go to Blue’s,” Gansey says, “and drink some disgusting tea to try and reconfigure my head. I’ll leave you guys to your… negotiations.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says. Isn’t entirely prepared when Gansey grabs him by the wrist and starts dragging him to the door. 

 

“I just need to talk to Ronan for a moment first,” Gansey says over his shoulder to Adam. 

 

Once the door is shut behind them and they’re both standing in the drafty stairwell, Gansey stares at Ronan, almost squinting. 

 

“What,” Ronan says. 

 

“You like him?” Gansey asks. 

 

“Obviously,” Ronan snorts. 

 

Gansey shakes his head, “I didn’t realise.” 

 

“It was meant to be a secret,” Ronan grumbles, crosses his arms, “it’s fine, man.” 

 

“Look,” Gansey says, “you’re both my friends. My best friends, ok? I want you two to be happy, but I know how much you guys… argue.” 

 

“Yup,” Ronan says. 

 

“I don’t want to see either of you get hurt. Remember what it was like with Adam and Blue?” 

 

“I try not to.” 

 

“Right,” Gansey says, “just. Tell Adam that if he hurts you, he’s answering to me. Ok.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan snorts, “sure thing mr macho. Is that all?” 

 

“No,” Gansey says, frowning at the name, “what the fuck, Ronan? Why didn’t you tell me any of this before? Did you know from the beginning that it was you shifting Adam in his dreams and not him walking? Can we tell the psychics about what happened so we can get their opinion?” 

 

“Uh,” Ronan says, “fear and guilt. Yep. I guess, so long as they don’t try to fucking touch me. You’ll have to ask Adam though.” 

 

“I’m ok with it,” Adam calls through the door. 

 

Gansey purses his lips, then shrugs. “Ok,” he says, “I’m going. Don’t burn the house down.” 

 

“Whatever mum,” Ronan says. Gansey punches him lightly on the shoulder. 

  
  
  


“So,” Ronan says as he shuts the door behind him again as he steps into Monmouth, “if you hurt me you answer to Gansey, apparently.” 

 

“I heard,” Adam says. He’s sprawled out on the couch, looking completely exhausted. 

 

“Probably if I hurt you I’m answering to Gansey too,” Ronan offers, crosses over to the couch to perch awkwardly on the side of it. 

 

“Mm,” Adam says. “Ok. Let’s sort some shit out, then?” 

 

“I hate talking about shit,” Ronan says, “we could just never ever talk about it and just like. Live our lives and eventually we’d get used to it.” 

 

“Or we could like. Decide who we want to know and whether or not you wanna kiss me,” Adam counters. 

  
  


-

  
  


“Lynch,” Adam greets him grumpily, all too early in the morning.

 

His voice is a little surprising to hear seeing as he was supposed to be hours away at university, but only a little, and very appreciated. 

 

“Mm,” Ronan mumbles, rolls over under the blanket and hooks his fingers around the fabric of Adam’s shirt. 

 

“I was supposed to go to a study lunch today,” Adam complains, lets himself be dragged closer to Ronan, “I’m definitely not gonna make it back to uni in time for that.” 

 

“S’the weekend,” Ronan says against Adam’s chest, “shouldn’t be studying.” 

 

“People study during the weekend,” Adam says. His voice tells him he’s rolling his eyes. “Did you bring me over on purpose?” 

 

“Mm,” Ronan says, “not on purpose purpose. Like. Yes. It was on purpose, I haven’t done it accidentally for a couple of years, but like, it wasn’t awake on purpose. I didn’t go to sleep meaning to.” 

 

“Hm,” Adam says, he’s resigned himself to Ronan curling completely around him, “you’re gonna have to drive me back, you know.” 

 

“I can do that,” Ronan says, “how long will you stay?” 

 

Adam’s silent for a while. He’s freed his arm from Ronan’s limbs and has started to stroke Ronan’s head, nails scratching through stubble soothingly. 

 

“I can stay the weekend,” he says eventually, “I don’t have anything I can’t skip. I have to be back sunday night though.” 

 

“I can do that,” Ronan says again, turns his head to give Adam more head scratching scope, “sorry I didn’t think before dragging you over.” 

 

“You should be,” Adam says, “it’s only luck I didn’t have anything important on.” 

 

“Mm,” Ronan mumbles, opens his eyes to check that Adam’s expression matched his tone, and then lifted his head so he could kiss his cheek. “You know I knew you had nothing on. I wouldn’t have if you did. Still though. I won’t again.” 

 

“Fine,” Adam says, tips his head down lower to get another, better, kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! If you like my writing, please consider donating a couple of $$'s to my ko-fi!   
> ko-fi.com/ardenetoile


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